


Of Fae and Mortals

by CatKit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Book 1: The Cruel Prince, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28484127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKit/pseuds/CatKit
Summary: Cruel Prince inspired fic! Draco dons Cardan’s crown
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

  
The Malfoy heir rested his cheek on his slim bejewelled fingers and cast his gaze out over the palace revelry.

The whole kingdom had descended on the palace to celebrate the end of the Yule season and welcome in the coming year. Casting a brief glance into his empty goblet, he snapped his fingers at a passing servant to refill his glass with acorn tinted elf wine. He took a long sip, delighted to find his aunt had plundered the depths of the royal wine cellar to provide decent refreshments for this display of pomp.

From his place on the main dias in the ballroom where dinner had been served hours previously he could view all of his relatives who were vying to be the next rulers of the Fae kingdom.

Dear auntie Bellatrix cackling at some scathing remark made at a troll nosed reveller with her frankly sickly looking cronies mainly made up of selkies and sirens from the Undersea. They hung on her everyword and topped up her glittering nightwine at every opportunity.

Aunt Andromeda and her crew of disgustingly valiant knights, archers and other useful battlefolk. She had won every palace tournament since coming of age at 17 and was a brilliant war tactician. Where Bellatrix was gaunt, tight and hungry, Andromeda was hale, soft and guarded. Bellatrix with her flowing dark curly locks was night and Andromeda with her glowing honey locks was day. Draco ran his fingers through his own silver white strands and idly smiled that his own was far superior to either of his aunts. 

He glanced about for mother and father but could not locate them presently. They held company with politicians, goblin financiers and influential representatives from the elves usually so he imagined they were in one of the parlours plying guests with faerie liquor and getting them to spill secrets from loose tongues.

“Draaaaacooooooo”, he felt whispered words on his right pointed ear.

Draco inclined his head to the left.

“Pansy. Must you hiss in my ear like the grass serpent before the crow plucks and flies off with him?”

“Always so overdramatic, lovely”, she draped herself over his midnight velvet doublet from behind and lent her face close to his cheek - he tried to withdraw however she held tight, “this party is utterly frightful, darling. The hor d’oeuvres were ashen, the pairing wines more syrupy than honey from the grumblebee and the canapés - do not get me started on the canapés. Blaise could have done a better job scraping his hob boot to provide more sustenance.”

Blaise. Always bloody Blaise Zabini.

Since Blaise had stolen Pansy from Draco a few turns back Draco’s general foul demeanour had darkened considerably. He was not overly sorry for the loss of his lover, Blaise was atrociously handsome he supposed, however the ire that Blaise had brazenly stolen from a Prince of the Crown made his blood boil whenever he was reminded of it.

Pansy lifted an apple brushed with gold leaf to his lips. “This should liven things up a tad.”

Draco inhaled the fresh apple bouquet and then bit down hard.

A flash of dark hair masquerading as bramble briar in the crowd.

Draco’s unfocused eyes narrowed, maybe this party would turn out to be enjoyable after all.

On the dance floor Potter looked around for his friends. He had rejected any food and drink offered as it was hard to know how his half mortal body would react with unspecified substances. 

Stopping and rotating on the spot he spotted a head of flaming orange hair in the far corner by the alcoves.

As he vaulted forward through the bustling crowd he felt a strong hand grab him around the waist and turn him.

“What, pray tell, are you doing here little halfling?”

Potter looked up to find molten grey eyes boring into his own. His hand was gripped and held aloft and he found his body was being guided forward and back in a waltz.

_“You”_ Harry spat. “Let. Me. Go.”

Harry writhed against Draco’s grip but the Prince of Faerie held strong. 

“Where are you going in such haste _Lily-son_? Dancing with a Prince of the realm is an honour. A rejection of such a gift could be met with a suitable punishment.”

Harry gritted his teeth, surely there had to be a way to wriggle out of this. 

“I hate you”.

Draco’s eyes gleamed. “Oh Potter, I wish I could tell you thrice, three hundred times the same.”

Draco reached out a slender finger and traced the curved tip of Harry’s ear. Harry shuddered, Draco looked almost bemused. Draco put his lips to the ear and said so only they could hear.

“You are deliciously awful Potter. I almost hope you wriggle out of this so I can see that you are reprimanded.”

Harry felt a thin cord wrap around his leg as they waltzed through the crowd tightening on his upper thigh. Shocked he glanced down finding it was Draco’s tail.

“What do you want Malfoy?”

“I want to know what you and your friends are scheming. The whole court has heard the rumbling from the underbelly of this society.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”.

Draco laughed delightedly. “I always forget mortal descendants can speak untruths but to see you do it is so _marvellous_.” He trailed a ringed finger down Harry’s cheek. “ Do it again.”

Harry stared at Draco defiantly.

“Your highness is the most wonderous creature this mortal has ever laid eyes on.”

Draco searched Harry’s eyes then his lips downturned. He spun Harry out into the crowd releasing his hold on him. Then the Prince stormed off through the crowd back to the dias grabbing and downing a full goblet of wine on the way.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Draco supposed the first time Harry had deemed to hate him had been the first time they had encountered each other.

Prior to beginning formal magickal education Draco’s father had taken him to the outfitter on the edge of the forest to be fitted for the tournament garbs he would be required to possess. Tournament training was important for youth as a lot of Fae cultural significance weighed on it - from wooing true loves, besting Kings and maintaining honour, that sort of thing. Draco thought these things were all too much like hard work as a nineteen year old now, however on that particular day he had been young and full of jittering excitement. 

They entered the establishment and his father directed him to stand on a tree stump in the central clearing. As he approached he sighted another boy with dark wild hair already standing on an adjacent stump with his back to him. The boy had his arms outstretched billowing his scarlet cloak behind him.

“Hullo”, Draco addressed the boy’s back brightly, “are you starting schooling this autumn also?”

The boy turned and Draco gasped delightedly. 

“Your _ears_!”

The boys eyebrows lowered, his emerald green eyes flashed and his face began to flush the same shade as a rowan berry. 

“There is nothing wrong with my ears”, he snapped hotly.

Draco was taken aback, the young princeling unused to others raising their voices to him. He hadn’t said anything was wrong with them, they were just so different to his own he couldn’t help point them out. Surely this boy knew they were fascinating.

“Oh my, your cheeks have flushed red too”.

This was the wrong thing to say. The boy positively turned purple and he stormed off the stump and out of the shop.

Draco looked to his father with an open mouth. He couldn’t understand what had just happened.

“Mortals Draco. Well, in that boy’s case a half breed. Angry, bothersome things who have no place in this realm if you ask me”.

Draco looked up to see his father making eye contact with who was obviously the boy’s guardian. A great hulking beast of a man, potentially half giant Draco suspected.

“Lucius”, the man’s gruff voice addressed his father, “little Prince”. Draco nodded carefully. 

“‘Arry will be starting school same as this little one so I would kindly ask you to keep yer prejudices to yer hateful selves”.

With that the man pushed past them to address the shopkeeper to finalise the boy’s purchases.

This wasn’t fair - Draco had done nothing wrong! He looked to his father again, searching.

“Dracooo”, his father tried to sooth him, “that boy was the product of the Potter estate with a mortal woman”.

Draco thought back to his tutorage, even though he was highly unlikely to rule with so many aunts and cousins vying for rulership as nobility he was educated in all the families of the court and realm.

The Potter’s were an old wizarding family stretching back almost as far as to the beginning of the Faerie realm. They held large estates in the South East dedicated to harvesting Whispering Stag antlers. They then sold the antler bone to trolls who ground them into a fine dust to make their famed sourbread. As the antlers were shedded annually and regrew it was seen as a more ethical solution than the trolls capturing mortals from the mainland.

James Potter had been at school with his father and a promising mortal girl had been invited to Fae to study with them, graduating to witch by the end of their studies. James had fallen in love with her and this boy must be their son. Something itched at the back of Draco’s mind. Something amiss had happened to James and his mortal bride but he couldn’t remember what it was or whether the details had even been divulged to him. 

Draco had heard there was going to be a mortal girl studying with him this autumn but had not had news a half mortal would also be joining them. 

Draco brushed himself off. Just a misunderstanding, he would charm the boy when he next saw him and they would become firm friends.


	3. Chapter 3

  
They did not become firm friends.

Quite the opposite in fact.

During their first midnight astrology lesson on the Haunted Heath Draco had already resolved to assist the half mortal boy (who he now knew was titled Harry) as his eyes surely could not be as keen in the nightdark as the magick folk. As Harry sat cross legged on the dry grass leant over his parchment to take notes on what seven falling stars to the northwest of the blue moon foretold, Draco swept over and pinching the corner of the parchment between delicate finger and thumb made to slide it towards himself to fill in the notes on Harry’s behalf.

The young Prince was unaware that Harry would snatch the parchment and pull it towards himself a moment after.

The sharp tug unsettled the ink vessel resting on the grass and it promptly glugged its contents all over said parchment.

The half mortal boy let out a noise crossed between a huff and a growl, got up and proceeded over to the part of the Heath with one of the ginger Weasel folk and the mortal girl.

In the third year Draco had become concerned Harry would not be able to hear the instructions given by their History governess as being a sprite she was awfully small and awfully high pitched of voice.

“Did you _hear_ that, Harry?”

Harry turned his moss green gaze to Draco.

“She said that since the beginning of Faerie there has never ever been a mortal ruler”.

Harry scowled and turned fully away from Draco speaking in angry hushed whispers to his friends.

Draco frowned and curled inwards a little, why wouldn’t the other boy find the history of his people in the land of the folk of interest.

In the fifth year Draco had spied Harry exchanging looks and brief hand touches with the youngest Weasel folk maiden. 

Smiling to himself he formulated a foolproof plan to befriend the young halfling once and for all.

Harry had always had a particular interest in tournament proceedings, excelling in swordsmanship, archery and horse riding. It was an open secret that he wished to be knight for Andromeda and enter into her service post education. Draco himself had little interest in these things it had transpired over the years, however he was invested in their cultural significance.

On the morning of the seven hundredth and sixth TriWizard tournament Draco assembled his finest outfit of ivory (ivory stockings, ivory breeches, ivory cape and a gold doublet - just to add a smidge of colour). He rested across his forehead the fine slim golden crown which denoted his royal heritage and crossed to the holding stables.

He mounted one of the royal steeds he had been assured by his father was bred for speed, courage and stubbornness.

As his lance made contact with the Weasel folk girl’s helmet he allowed himself a small smile.

As he watched her wiry body hit the dusty jousting track he removed his helmet, searching the crowd for his prize.

A figure was cradling the girls head in their lap and reassuring them. As Draco looked on the figure lifted their emerald eyes to glare at him.

Draco’s grin faltered.

Draco twisted it into a smirk.

He was done with trying to befriend this halfling, if Harry only noticed Draco’s misdeeds - then that is what he would receive.

Harry _hated_ it when Draco kicked earth over him and his friends.

Harry _hated_ it when Pansy and Blaise would cackle behind Draco as he verbally assaulted Harry with his wicked tongue.

Harry _hated_ it when Draco reverently knelt before him and used that tongue to bring him to ecstasy.

Harry _hated_ that he liked it when Draco’s sharp canine’s grazed his bottom lip when he kissed him under the waxing moon.


End file.
